


Independent Studies in Mustard

by taygeta



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taygeta/pseuds/taygeta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-"App Development and Condiments". What happened next for Britta - Mother of Ones? Jeff x Britta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Independent Studies in Mustard

Faced down on the table, Britta Perry felt like she was wallowing in a pool of mustard. She practically was - given the amount of mustard she had desperately and pathetically plastered on her face in a last ditch effort to save her five-minute empire.

"Empire…" she whispered weakly into the table.

She could admit it now. It was almost easy in the eerie quiet of the room, a disaster zone of posters and streamers and her shattered dreams. She had sold out in the worst way to get what she wanted, a world that would finally listen to her. It was as clear as the mustard on her face.

Even the mustard was un-pure - stolen from the carefully rationed supply of Shirley's Sandwiches. Britta groaned at the thought of paying her back, and how Shirley would just guilt trip her into putting more money in the tip jar every time.

"I put some extra mustard in there for you...Brit-TA," Shirley's voiced echoed in her mind and she could just envision it complete with raised eyebrow glare.

It was then that Britta realized that Shirley's generosity with mustard had probably gotten her into this mess in the first place. This was certainly a Shirley-centric week, no wonder Jeff had been so motivated to take her down. Britta made a mental note to add that to Jeff's list of problems for her to therapize.

Though she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk to Jeff any time soon. He did - after all - take down the Meowmeowbeenz structure that had remained, the one that was all hers. She had wanted him to, but that was before - before she had a taste of what it meant to be heard.

She spent so much of her activist life yelling, expecting so often that most people wouldn't listen. So much of the battle was just getting her point across while pretending not to watch faces glaze over.

It was in the shambles of her empire that the Mother of Ones - the one who dedicated herself to wanting to listen to the needs of others - realized just how much she too wanted to be heard.

It had been true for a moment and now she was forgotten, like all those queens that don't get written down by the patriarchy of westernization.

The Mother of Ones with her mustard-stained face wondered if anyone would ever remember her.

"Hey."

Britta recognized the voice and said into the table, "Go away."

"Nope."

Britta Perry had enough arguments with Jeff Winger to know what battles she'd be willing to choose. It was pro-arguments 95% of the time, and this "nope" was definitely in the 5%. Taking a deep breath - a giant whiff of mustard and failure with it - her gaze lifted slowly.

The first thing she saw was a white napkin.

"Is this a sign of surrender?" she asked as his eyes widened while taking in her entire face. She grabbed the napkin quickly and began to brush it against her face. The yellow on the white napkin was like looking into an ugly mirror.

He was no longer in his Five-toga, having must have dressed in the extra gym clothes he had in his office. It was another sign that the empire was gone.

"Britta," he said leaning against the table, "The next time the school is at the brink of yet another catastrophic oligarchy or tyrannical take over, let me emphasize that a _little_ mustard goes a long way."

Britta continued to wipe her face and then looked up at him for inspection. He sighed taking the napkin in his right hand and lifting her chin with his left to clean up a corner at her hairline and then her chin.

"There." He looked at the napkin with an expression of sudden disgust. Looking around at the mess already in the room, he threw it over his shoulder.

"Jeff!" said Britta, standing up to grab the napkin.

"Britta...look around you. Let it go."

She rolled her eyes and sat down, "Fine." Her arms crossed her chest she replied, "Thanks - but you didn't have to come back."

"Figured it was the least I could do since I took down your empire of anarchy at the same time as MeowMeowBeenz."

"It could have worked out if it had time," she said weakly. "We could have been a true democracy."

Jeff picked up a "All Hail the One True Five! Viva, BrittaPerry!" poster and pointed to it.

"Okay, fine…"

He smiled and Britta felt suddenly offended. She hit him in the arm and said, "What?"

"You liked being in power."

"I liked giving people equality!"

Jeff leaned down to meet her eyes, "Come on - it was written all over your face in mustard."

"I liked giving people equality...a lot."

Their faces - inches away - made Britta flashback to another room broken apart by Greendale in a paintball war long, long ago. And then - to Britta's surprise - Jeff Winger leaned to the side and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

He moved away and she said, "What was that for?"

"Viva Britta Perry," he said simply walking away backwards, still looking at her. "All hail the one true five."

"You mean two?" she called out to him cynically, his back turned to her now.

He continued to walk away, leaving for her to decide what number she wanted him to mean.

The door closed behind him and she sat in the quiet of the room again, this time looking up and with her hand touching the left side of her face.

In the shambles of her empire and with a kiss lingering on her cheek, she whispered, "Viva Britta Perry."

Smiling, she stood up and headed for home.

The Mother of Ones lives.


End file.
